


And I’ve got hope in my arms (please keep me warm with your love)

by ari_sia



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, Not Proofread, Reincarnation, World War I, a lot of crying gays, couples who cry together stay together, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ari_sia/pseuds/ari_sia
Summary: Being a cog in the capitalistic machinery while being haunted was too much for Aman and having elaborate dreams about his co-worker wasn’t helping at all. And as if that wasn't enough those dreams seemed to be following him into reality.orthe reincarnation au where Aman is unsure and all Kartik can do is wait.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 30





	And I’ve got hope in my arms (please keep me warm with your love)

It begins with water. Or rather the intense fear of it that Aman had carried with him ever since he was little.

To him, deep waters were almost the same as the void, waiting to swallow Aman whole and make him a part of its vast nothingness so he could feel nothing, hear nothing and lose all sense of self. That’s where the dreams had begun.

He was sure this fear was because of the time he’d fallen inside a pool when he was seven. He was only submerged for a few seconds before his father pulled him out. The deep-rooted fear that had his heart clasped in a web of inexplicable and bottomless dread seemed far too big a consequence for an incident as small as that but Aman knew the human mind never worked rationally so he didn’t question it.

His family would’ve. They were far more, what was the word his mother used?—flexible in their thinking.

“You’re so practical, I’m sometimes not sure if you’re even a Tripathi. I mean, your father’s a scientist and he’s still so unhinged and unpractical. I don’t know how you turned out this way”

“You almost sound disappointed about the fact that I know how to navigate my way through life”

His mother just ignored him and continued on, “I just wish you were more like us”

“Crazy?” His mother glared at him before gently saying, “No”

“Flexible”

He wanted to laugh now.

He stared at himself in the mirror but it wasn’t him that was staring back. It was a man who looked exactly like him, the same brown eyes, the same features even the same height but he somehow seemed taller. Older. As if he knew things Aman, the _real_ Aman, couldn’t even imagine in his dreams.

Well that and the fact that his reflection was wearing a soldier’s uniform and was covered in mud and ash, which the real Aman was definitely _not._

He checked. Twice.

He laughed but it just came out as a hollow sound, unsurprising considering the incredulousness of the situation. At least his mother would be happy, his family’s crazy had finally caught upto him.

-

He dreamt of a war that night. Of deafening shells. Of a uniform torn and tattered. And he dreamt of a hand curled tightly around his stabilizing him.

He wakes up gasping for air that had seemed scarce in his dream. It had seemed too real and he swore lightly as he could still feel a faint grip on his hand. He knew whose hand that was. Fuck.

-

A hand startles Aman out of his daydream. He looks up and sees Kartik staring at him, the usual smile on his face missing

“Hey”

“Hm” Aman replies eloquently

“You seem a little troubled.”

Aman laughs a little,“Oh are you worried about me?”, he adds in a light tone

“Yes. _Very_ ” Kartik says leaning in matching Aman’s joking tone and Aman barely catches himself before he got lost in his soft eyes.

Aman leans in too just to say,“Then why haven’t you done the briefs yet?”

“Uhhh” Kartik backs up and scratches the back of his head sheepishly

“Your flirting won’t solve my problems but maybe if you actually do you work on time..”

Kartik throws his hands up in surrender, “I’ll hand in the briefs before lunch, just watch me boss-man” he says walking away and Aman couldn’t help but smile, last night’s dream long buried in his head.

-

This time he dreamt of endless rain and people drowning slowly in piles and piles of mud. Their screams of agony and hollow eyes of those who had accepted their fate of a slow and painful death. Aman was trying to pull someone out it seemed. Trying desperately and failing. A hand gripped his shoulders barely stopping Aman from jumping into the pit himself after the already doomed soul. This time he turned around and Kartik’s face was clear to him.

-

Okay he’ll be honest, when he first started having those weird disjointed dreams about Kartik and his brighter than the sun smile, he just thought it was some repressed sex fantasy taking life in his dreams. As they do. He believed it to be a side effect of repressing his sexuality for so long. But even he drew the line at his dreams bleeding into the real world through reflections.On top of that the dreams had somehow become…more _real_. Too real for Aman to come up with a rational explanation.

Aman had better things to do with his life than finding out why his reflection had just up and decided to become a soldier for a day. Maybe he was being haunted, maybe he was going crazy or maybe this was all just an elaborate dream that he just couldn’t wake himself up from but he had work in the morning. Being a cog in the capitalistic machinery while being haunted was too much for him and having elaborate dreams about his co-worker wasn’t helping at all. And as if that wasn't enough those dreams seemed to be following him into reality. 

He may or may not have ended up on reddit? Yes, not a great place for authentic content. That had sunk in after about a hundred useless ghost stories later that were definitely not true but to his defence, he did end up finding a story that was similar to his. If he looked past the obnoxious writing and the over the top conclusions the narrator drew from his story, the facts were almost the same.

War. Mud. Shells.

The man seemed alone though, unlike Aman. He really didn’t have any reason to believe this story either but he was inclined to. Maybe it was because most of the research, Aman squints at the username– _twinkobliterator,_ had done actually checked out. The uniforms were apparently from World War I which when Aman googled matched the ones worn by his ghost reflection. The people drowning in mud was apparently from the Third Battle of Ypres or simply known as Passchendaele and Aman thought he was finally onto something but much to his dismay the posts seemed to have stopped abruptly and Aman really didn’t get any more information except the surroundings of _twinkobliterator_ to successfully draw any conclusions.

-

Aman’s ghost reflection hadn’t come back to haunt him and he was all but ready to chalk that incident up as a hallucination if it wasn’t for the dreams. It had become harder for him to even breathe around Kartik because of how real they felt.

“Here” Aman doesn’t look at Kartik when he places a cup on his table, “Oh. Thanks” he says mindlessly as he takes a sip, never tearing his eyes away from his screen until,

“This isn’t coffee?” He finally looks at Kartik.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you’re getting much sleep these days. So, I just thought tea would be better.” There was an odd look in Kartik’s eyes when he said that and Aman had half a mind to ask him if he knew something but he stopped himself.

“Ah. Thanks.”  
Kartik winked at him and Aman couldn’t help but stare at his back as he retreated back to his cubicle.

Being comfortable with his sexuality was nice and it made it easier for him to breathe but actually falling in love with another man and acting on those feelings was almost as scary as the bottomless ocean he often had nightmares of being lost in.

Being gay doesn’t mean he has to be an activist. He doesn’t have to come out. He doesn’t have to be a part of pride events and meet-ups. He doesn’t have to do anything that he doesn’t want to and he is allowed to prioritize his safety over everything else. All of that doesn’t make him any less gay.

But all of those things were something he could avoid. Falling in love on the other hand…

As if one cue Kartik turns around and catches his eye. Aman is about to duck to avoid his gaze when Kartik smiles at him, that goddamn brighter than sunshine toothy smile, Aman is just transfixed again.

If he chose this, he would live in constant fear of being caught, of being thrown out of his family. No. They wouldn’t cut him off, that’s the part that bothered him. Knowing his family, they would try to “help” him and “fix” him because they “loved” their son.

Aman didn’t have it in him to explain to them that love is sometimes accepting things that you don’t understand and certainly not trying to change someone to fit their definition of normal.

Forget the movies and the books, the romanticizing of the hurt and pain that came along with loving someone, forget the fiction. In reality would it really be worth putting everything he had, including his freedom, on the line? Would love really be worth all of that?

Would Kartik?

-

Exactly one day for after Aman had decided to avoid Kartik, he found himself cornered by the man himself.

“Do you hate me or something?”

Aman stared at him in surprise. Sure, he’d seen Kartik annoyed and a little sad but this was the first time he’d seen Kartik positively pissed at him

“Kartik…please”, Aman hadn’t even known what he was going to say but he didn’t have to worry because Kartik cut him off.

“No, I’m just a little confused because I’ve seen the way you look at me and yet you’re so insistent that you feel nothing that I just don’t understand it.” Kartik’s voice went up a little with every syllable and Aman had an inkling that this wasn’t just about the mixed signals Aman had been sending. There was a deeper frustration there, maybe even…sadness.

“I thought if I did it the normal way it would be fine.” That part was almost a mumble, “God, I’m trying so hard here and you don’t even—” Kartik stopped midway and Aman didn’t ask what he was about to say. He didn’t want to.

“It’s not that easy being open about things for me as it is for you, okay?”, Aman bit back.

And Kartik rolled his eyes, “c’mon Aman there’s bigger things for people to worry about than two men in love”

Aman scoffs, “In what world”

-

The thing about war is people don’t really care about two men kissing each other. There’s death around every corner. They shake the hand of their dead comrade and joke around with his dead body before heading to the front. The morbidity of it all had left their sanity hanging by a single thread of humour and stolen all sense of wonder and surprise from them.

After watching your comrades die by drowning in mud really, what else do you do? complain about its unfairness? Plan to overthrow the government? No. You have realized your place in the world now, so you joke and laugh and pull the trigger and under no circumstance do you think about home. This was your life now and you had to make the most of it.

So, two men kissing each other? Yeah, someone might’ve harassed them about it before Somme maybe. But after Marne, Somme, Verdun and all these years of living in the underground trenches with the mud and decaying bodies of your friends, no one really had the energy to give a fuck anymore. Maybe the war and destruction put things into perspective and hatred was just too consuming an emotion to be wasted on things deep down they never really hated...just didn’t understand.

Or maybe they were all just too tired to even notice and Aman was grasping at the threads trying to find some meaning to it all, or at least something good out of the mindless loss and destruction. At least one thing was clear to him.

Kartik was the only thing that still tied Aman to reality. The only good thing left in the world for him.

-

Aman wakes up rattled and unsure. He calls in sick that day. His phone buzzes a bunch of times throughout the day with messages from his co-workers telling him to take care or about a file they couldn’t find and maybe he was a little disappointed that Kartik hadn’t sent him a single text. Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised after their confrontation.

He did nothing but read up on World War I and yet he couldn’t make sense of anything. What the fuck was going on with him? Maybe Kartik did know something but he sure as hell couldn’t ask him now. Maybe he would never find any answers.

He was wrong.

-

“Don’t worry so much.” Kartik’s voice filters in, “When I get back I’m never going to leave your side. I’ll be stuck to you like glue”

He would never admit it but that made Aman’s heart feel a little lighter.

“I better find some vinegar to dissolve that glue soon then”

Kartik let out a peal of bright laughter so uncanny for someone heading towards the frontlines that a few heads turned towards him gazing at him with confusion lacing their eyes. Aman felt a little proud when he saw that. He was proud of his and Kartik’s little world of happiness in this war-torn land. As long as he could see that bright smile, living was worth it all.

Kartik didn’t come back.

Aman’s hope disappeared with him. He couldn’t even find it in himself to cry, not like he had the time to. He was off to the frontlines as part of the second wave, just after Kartik’s wave had had horrendous results. It was clear that the plan the generals and ministers had made while in the comfort and safety of their offices had failed miserably but they just weren’t ready to acknowledge their failure. And to keep up their delusion, Aman’s life was put at risk. Sometimes Aman wondered if they were fighting for freedom or the ego of their leaders.

And just like that he was on the field with men lying on the ground with more limbs missing than attached to them. The same ground Kartik had failed to come back from. It took everything Aman had to stop himself from scouring the land to find him. The joke was on him because he did end up finding him, involuntarily.

Or at least he found something that belonged to him. From beneath the debris of a shell crater he had taken cover in, he saw a hand peeking out. Nothing out of the usual, of course. But even covered in dirt and ash the tattoos remained visible to Aman’s eyes, and he thought maybe it was because he knew every inch of Kartik’s body better than his own, the shape of his hands when they were curled against his, how his body shook when he cried, how his hair fell on his eyes when he woke up in the morning, how easily he leaned on his left foot whenever he tried to lie, all of it was imprinted in Aman’s head.

He didn’t know when he started to lean towards the hand—towards him, but he did and he held it as tightly as he could. There was a moment where he could feel nothing but his tears tracking down his cheeks and then there was nothing.

There was no thumb rubbing against his fingers gently, there was no reassuring squeeze, there were no fingers playing lightly with his hand but what really made the reality of it sink in, what made dread fill his body so deeply that he flinched away from the hand was the fact that there was no warmth in it anymore.

Aman screamed.

-

It was funny how easy it was for Aman to survive without hope or happiness or even a will to survive. He just waited. For something, a rouge shell, a gunshot or maybe even some debris falling on him and burying him…like it had buried Kartik.

But nothing came for him. When he finally had nothing left to live for even death didn’t want him. Or maybe to it Aman already seemed dead enough. Aman sure felt like it. As months flew by Aman thought he might have to end up watching the war end before his life did. But that didn’t happen.

It finally ended with a sinking ship and water. Deep and seemingly bottomless. He remembers his lungs were burning and he couldn’t scream but the worst thing about it was the cold. He couldn’t feel anything but chills seeping into his bones, the burning lungs just a vague feeling. The last thing he remembered was longing for warmth of Kartik’s embrace and how cold his hand had been that day.

He almost wanted to call death cruel but that wouldn’t be right.

After all, it’s just doing its job, isn’t it?

He could forgive it all if he could have just one more chance to grow old with Kartik, to have a life with him, to watch him smile and live again.

Just one more chance to love him.

-

Aman didn’t wake up with a start. His eyes fluttered open gently as he was greeted by the darkness in his room unable to move, unable to breathe, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. His eyelids weighed down on him with the knowledge of things he now knew…things he felt. He was sure his chest would collapse or his heart would burst with the onslaught of…well, everything. But he just lay there unmoving forced to reckon with a past he now felt fusing with his present, becoming a part of him, absorbed in his bones and soul.

When he was finally able to move, he sat up and burst into tears. He clutched his chest and then his quilt and then his pillow, his hands reaching out frantically looking for something as his loud sobs filled the dead silence of the room. His uncertainty, frustration and confusion was melting into his tears and it felt as if some part that he didn’t even know he had been missing had returned to him and with it came a longing and ache for a warmth that seemed out of his reach.

But despite all that pain and sadness, finally, Aman felt whole.

-

Aman doesn’t know what he’s going to do next when he knocks on Kartik’s door at 7 in the morning but he couldn’t stay away. He just—

Kartik opens the door and his hair is falling on his eyes that are soft and filled with life. Aman impulsively reaches out to Kartik’s hand and cries because that’s _his_ Kartik and he’s alive and…he’s warm.

He clutches Kartik’s hand tighter and falls to the floor crying harder

_He’s warm._

_-_

“So you finally remember huh”

Aman hadn’t stopped crying. Only difference was now he was soaking Kartik’s shirt instead of his carpet.

“Jesus, you didn’t shed a single tear during the war and look at you now”

Kartik’s voice comes out broken and trembling and Aman knows he’s trying his hardest to keep himself from crying.

“because you died, you asshole.” Kartik lets out a teary laugh at that, “You said you would stick to me like glue” Aman continues finally looking up to face Kartik, his eyes teary and worn out, “And then you just died”

“I’m sorry” Aman hits Kartik at that.

“I’m sorry” Kartik softly whispers as he rests his forehead against Aman’s, “I’m sorry” and it’s Aman who closes the distance between them kissing Kartik as his tears fell gently on Aman’s own tear stained cheeks.

They stayed there, entwined in each other’s arms just like their fate for what seemed like an eternity but god they had earned it. After an eternity apart it was only fair that they got an eternity together.

**Author's Note:**

> This seemed better inside my head.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Leave a comment or come scream at me on my tumblr  
> : https://username-ari-ver9.tumblr.com


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